Chapter 1
ONE
Elle
Two Years before He Left
COASTAL PENSACOLA COLLEGE WASN’T PART of the Ivy League or the most competitive school on the East Coast. It was, however, one of the most picturesque campuses in Florida—at least, I’d always thought so, having grown up practically next door.
The institution was a beachside melting pot of locals, military-bound students, and out-of-state prospects who would pay big money to attend a school centered between the Naval Air Station and the Alabama border.
Citywide Mardi Gras celebrations, the Blue Angels, and seafood pulled straight from the Gulf were a few of the things I loved most about growing up in Pensacola.
A hop and a skip from New Orleans, the graffiti-kissed cityscape also got more seasonal variation than expected from the Sunshine State, which was a huge benefit for people wanting the coastal lifestyle without the hot-as-balls year-round heat.
Perhaps the biggest draw of all though was the city being home to multiple military bases, overflowing with an endless variety of handsome, professional men in uniform.
At least, that was what the influx of young female prospects from across the country must’ve thought as they hovered around the recruiting booth set up on the campus’s main lawn the day I met Jesse Jenkins.
The day he crashed into me and I fell.
My morning walk to class began the way it always did, with one exception.
One of the two uniformed men manning the booth asked the sea of faces, “Excuse me, have you given any thought to joining the Navy after graduation?”
It was somewhere between a command and a shout, landing on everyone and no one specific at the same time.
The quieter serviceman, standing several heads higher than his counterpart, was the main attraction, garnering interest from students at an impressive rate.
It wasn’t hard to see why. Prickles of potential fell down my spine. The guy was a total smokeshow.
The perfectly groomed, much larger man said very little.
His presence said it all for him. Join the Navy and fuck a big, strong guy like me, and, If you join the Navy, women will flock to you like they’re doing to me right now, were the messages being sprinkled into the growing crowd by his silence.
He appeared several years older than the students clogging up the pathway, yet not old enough to be a professor’s age.
Experienced and far less stressed-acting than the louder, more jittery of the two.
His solemn stance and crossed arms showcased respect and a deep understanding of the seriousness behind the decision the recruiters presented.
My pace slowed as I drifted closer to the action, noticing the billowing gaze that surged over the sea of females and latched on to me.
I had no intention of joining the Navy, but something about the changing energy of my commute to class drew me in like a silent current.
Was the energetic crowd exciting me or the man whose gaze cut right through it? A humble smile crossed my face.
The intimidating man kept his eyes locked on mine from an impressive distance while his face and body stayed perfectly still. Sturdy.
It was the brand of stare that a woman could feel lingering on her, even without looking.
The face of my watch told me I had thirty more minutes until my exam in Addictions and Their Impacts on Psychological Health, which meant if I continued at my current enthusiastic speed, I would be almost twenty minutes early.
Did the type A in me enjoy being punctual?
Yes. Did I want to be the outcast who showed up too early for an exam even though I’d studied for hours the night before?
No, thanks. I had time to kill. Why not let a little curiosity kill it for me?
The chill that made its home in the January air wrapped me in a rare brand of comfort when I slowed, like I was meant to be in the exact place I stood.
The exact place on the uneven sidewalk, in front of the recruiting booth, where my curiosity was shattered by a body thrusting into my back from behind.
The force knocked me off-balance into a muddied spot on the grass, dampening the knees of my leggings.
Dozens of students and visitors turned to stare at me, along with the notebooks and textbooks that had fallen from my arms.
“Holy shit, are you okay?” a male voice shouted from the ground beside me.
I didn’t need to look up to know who it belonged to.
Jesse Jenkins.
I grabbed my right shoulder, ensuring it was still attached. The pain radiating down my arm from the impact of someone’s body colliding with mine was impressive. My determination to avoid public tears in front of my peers was even stronger until his eyes captured mine.
They were bluer than blue. They were deeper.
Darker.
And so haunting that I chose to focus on the pain instead of getting lost in a trance.
What the hell is up with me? I had to be ovulating. It was the only explanation for my unusual level of attraction to testosterone.
“Yeah. I … ughhh … I’m fine, I guess,” I responded tartly. The whirlwind of thoughts pummeling me rode a nervous gulp down my throat.
A few moments passed while I processed what had just occurred, semi-wishing the voice at my side belonged to the impressive recruiter man who’d stolen my attention moments earlier.
I looked around for him, allowing the frantic movement to distract me from my embarrassment, but he was no longer behind the booth. Nowhere to be seen.
My new collision buddy helped gather my belongings, which were strewn around us, and grabbed my hand, helping me to my feet.
“Ouchhh,” I groaned, plucking grass from my sleeve. The pain softened, but still lingered when his grip on my hand loosened.
We’d never formally met, but I already knew him.
Everyone did. His energy was … consuming.
Sure, I was a sophomore and had no classes with upperclassmen like Jesse, but he was at every single party I’d ever had the guts to attend.
The keg-stand king, the guy who was a blast to spend time with before ever knowing him because he brought the booze, the dirty jokes, and the far-reaching sex appeal.
He always looked comfortable on campus and was rarely alone—a real socialite. The band geeks, the jocks, the Greek life gods and goddesses—he effortlessly pulled them into his tent like a ringleader.
The moment his ocean eyes crashed into mine, it was clear.
No one was immune to his impact.
Not even someone as serious about swearing off conventionally hot men and staying focused on their education as I was.
“My bad … I should have been paying attention to my surroundings, but something else caught my eye,” he admitted, grinning in a way I would consider more provocative than genuine. Sunlight reflected from his perfectly aligned teeth.
“Clearly.”
“I’m paying attention now—that’s for sure.” He took me in from head to toe, almost studying me, like he wanted to stay there for a while. “I’m Jesse.”
He smiled again, his dimples sinking deeper than the first time. God, there was no denying how hot he was. My stare ran wild around his symmetrical face, sharp jawline, and tousled blond hair that had no business landing so imperfectly across his eyebrows.
“I know who you are.” It was the only response I could think of.
I steadied myself and collected my bearings, brushing dirt from my pants, no-longer-white Converses, and a sweatshirt that sported our school’s logo—the cresting wave.
Thankfully, I’d taken the time to do my makeup that morning.
A simple look—including some concealer, mascara, and a glossy, lip-lined pout—padded my confidence.
“Do you now?” His tone and smirk suggested that he was used to people knowing him before he ever spoke a word to them. “Well, I bet you didn’t know I’m about to sign my life away to the government so, in exchange, they’ll pay for my last two years of college.”
Damn, he had me there.
“And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you to join me.” His charm and right arm stretched toward me, lightly skimming my hand, before a deep voice startled us both.
A very deep voice.
That could only belong to a very specific man.
“You Jesse Jenkins?” The no-longer-silent-but-still-deadly recruiter reappeared with a clipboard in hand.
Seemingly searching for Jesse, he approached me instead. Did he think I was Jesse? Because I could pretend to be Jesse for a moment if that was who he was looking for.
Closer to him than I was before, I noticed that the eyes staring into mine were the most incredible shade of green. Like ivy, their vines strangled my pupils. I wanted them to live there. Only they were uprooted by Jesse’s response.
“She’s not Jesse. I am,” the real Jesse pronounced. His posture remained relaxed before he approached the embodiment of authority towering over us both.
I ran a hand through my pin-straight blonde hair, gathering myself like a disheveled piece of meat between two toasty slices of bread. Yep, definitely ovulating.
“Great. I’ve been waiting for you. If you’re ready to sign and finalize the details of your agreement, as we touched on in our emails, you can follow me. I’m Austin Carterson, the recruiter you’ve been in contact with,” he said.
I paused, hesitant to intrude on such a massive moment in Jesse’s life when we’d only just met.
“Today’s my last day in Pensacola. I’m shipping out tomorrow for my new duty station. If you want to contract under the grant program we discussed, we’ll need to finalize the paperwork before then. I hate to put pressure on you like this, but it’s the reality.”
“No worries, man. It’s cool. I’m ready,” Jesse replied, unruffled.
How could he be so calm? Did he fully understand what he was getting into?
“Can my new friend here come with us?” Jesse’s head dipped toward me, his expression hopeful.
Shocked by his request, I looked at him with a face that said, Are you sure about this? and then upward to gauge Mr. Carterson’s reaction. Surely, he wouldn’t welcome an outlier at such an important contractual meeting. There had to be regulations against that, right?
“That’s your call. She’s welcome to join us if you’d like some moral support. A friend can sometimes add the softness a man may need to cushion him before making a big life decision.” Austin emphasized the word friend.
It was strange.
Great. Not only would I be late for my exam or completely miss it, but there was also no way I could not help Jesse through such a significant moment in his life.
I was getting a degree in psychology, which, by unspoken law, prevented me from avoiding a rare, emotionally charged situation like the one I’d found myself in.
Although I usually liked my men like I liked my education—free—I couldn’t miss such an appealing learning opportunity.
Gosh, I couldn’t wait to tell my roommate, Ruthie, about my morning. My best friend would be so pumped that I was talking to the Jesse Jenkins in the flesh.
“Christ, he’s a real fucking panty-dropper,” she said anytime we saw him.
She’d even admitted to flicking her bean to a mental image of him once while she was drunk.
I had given her hell for it.
And I always would. Forever.
Jesse’s smug expression panned my way as he confirmed what I’d already known. “I’d love to have you with me while I do this. I can’t think of a more personal first date than this.”
A date? His cockiness simmered my attraction to him. Presumptuous much? Still, I nodded in agreement, my answer silent yet sturdy.
“You can both follow me then,” Mr. Carterson commanded.